<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Wish You Were Beer by GreatGawain</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25392994">Wish You Were Beer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatGawain/pseuds/GreatGawain'>GreatGawain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Adventures of Pink Floyd [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pink Floyd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Not Slash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:40:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25392994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatGawain/pseuds/GreatGawain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Roger brings beer to celebrate the completion of a song. Then they come up with a great idea</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Adventures of Pink Floyd [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wish You Were Beer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Because the new album was dragging along in a lazy and unmotivated fashion, nothing good ever came of bringing alcohol into the studio on a day that work was actually getting done. It tended to hinder inspiration and bring the (already very slow) recording process to a screeching halt. Sometimes unwise words were spoken and brought an unnecessary conflict with them, or an unsteady hand would knock a drink and send its contents washing over the floor, or a foolish idea gained traction and would be brought to fruition, much to Brian and Peter’s collective dismay.<br/>The latter was exactly what happened the day Roger arrived at the studio, a bottle of whiskey under each arm, when the record’s title track was successfully completed.</p><p>By the time the group was cheering and patting each other on the back in celebration over their newest achievement, it was already close to midnight. It didn’t take much longer after that for the alcohol to be presented and make rounds within the group, working its way into each of their tired minds, its effects apparent within the hour.<br/>The group carried on for several minutes talking about whatever came to mind, spirited conversation about trivial matters filling the recording space. After only one small drink Andrew left for home, to the dismay of the rest of the band. He refused their pleas to stay throughout the night and departed for his car while shaking his head with a sigh. At one point Richard and David decided to switch instruments and tried to crack the code to the secret of the other’s talents. Though highly skilled at the other’s instrument in their own rights, however, the two inebriated musicians quickly gave up at the distraction of Brian leaving for the bathroom.<br/>After witnessing the band laugh much too enthusiastically at one of Roger’s raunchy jokes, Peter excused himself for a moment and headed into the control room to retrieve his packet of cigarettes. It was something of a relief to get away for a minute or two. Sometimes trying to keep up with the foursome’s witty antics were tiring, in a way. He rummaged through the sloppy pile of their jackets in the corner of the couch, and as he did he heard childish sniggering and whispers coming from the room on the other side of the viewing glass.</p><p>“Absolutely brill. Peter!”<br/>The loud voice coming through the speaker made him jump, reminding him that he had forgotten to turn off the intercom system. He grabbed the carton and pressed the microphone button when he reached the desk. “Yeah?”<br/>“Turn the mixer back on, we’re gonna record something.”<br/>Peter looked up in confusion and through the window saw the band struggling to arrange themselves around a single microphone. <i>What in the world are they up to?</i> he wondered.<br/>“Right now?”<br/><i>“Yes,</i> right now,” came the reply, as if insulted by his question. “Hurry up before we forget it.”<br/>He sighed but was admittedly very curious as to how the situation would pan out. “Right, give me a minute.”<br/>“Thank you dear, and when you’re set please play ‘Wish You Were Here’ over the speakers,” David’s voice requested with a snicker.</p><p>“Alright lads, go ahead…” Peter said, settling down in his chair. Brian silently joined him from his return trip to the bathroom and wordlessly raised an eyebrow at him, a bemused grin on his face; he, too was very curious as to what was about to happen as Peter started playing the backing track. Peter simply rolled his eyes in response while the sounds of plucked guitar strings floated out and gradually turned into measured strumming. He briefly found himself awed by and proud of the music filling his ears: it was always an experience in itself to finally hear the finished product of a song one had heard every working version of, since the very first recording session.<br/>He closed his eyes to take it in better – but his lids snapped open not half a second later by a much more jarring noise.</p><p>“SOOoooOo… SO YOU THINK Y’CAN TEEEEEEeeellll…”<br/>Tremendous laughter echoed around the room and all four band members were nearly in tears as they continued to shout the lyrics of their newest piece at full volume into the microphone. Brian folded his arms across his chest and lifted <i>both</i> eyebrows this time. Peter’s mouth fell open.<br/>Nick pushed his way to the front. “HEAVEN FROM <i>HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL!”</i><br/>“God, Nick, you-”<br/>“BLUE SKIES FROM <i>PAAAAAAA-!”</i><br/>Roger elbowed him in the side and cut him off halfway through the word. “CAN YOU TELL A GREEN FIIIIIiiIIIiiIIIEEEeeeeeelllllddd…”<br/>David draped his arms around Roger on his left and Richard on his right, the latter of which sagged into him with eyes that had basically been shut since they started. Nevertheless, he belted out the rest of the verse with his band mates with incredible gusto.</p><p>They finally made it to the break before the chorus and a massive burp from Roger punctuated it. The rest of them actually fell over onto the floor or nearby furniture in side-splitting laughter. Peter wondered if they would be able to compose themselves enough by the time the instrumental passage was over, but of course kept his microphone switched off. Neither he nor Brian had said a word to each other since the whole ordeal had started, both mesmerized by the scene unfolding before them What had possessed them to do this was beyond either of them, and well past their pay grade.</p><p>Peter swore he looked away for five seconds to light a cigarette and when he looked back up, they were miraculously back on their feet. They were seconds away from the next line, and in a show of drunken solidarity they wrapped arms across each other’s shoulders and knitted themselves tightly together. This was the straw that finally broke Brian’s back, and Peter once again jumped in fright when Brian’s hand slammed down on the desk and he started wheezing. He laughed so hard it lasted through the rest of the song.</p><p>“Ok, guys, this is – fuck – this is it!”<br/>Richard shot him a glare through very heavy lids. “Rog if you dare heave on me I swear I’ll break your teeth.”<br/>“Oh <i>ha,</i> do try, Ricky. I’ll take you on any day.” Nevertheless, he ever so slightly angled himself away from the keyboardist and made sure to keep half a mind on his stomach.<br/>“Fucking shut it, you cunts!”</p><p>“HOW I WIIIIIIIIIsh, HOW I WISH YOU WERE HERE!” Nick once again tried to shove his way to the top of the gathering but, forgetting his arms were weaved around his friends’ shoulders, was pulled back quickly.<br/>“WE’RE JUST-<br/>Peter had to cover his ears with his hands when they belted out the next line because the audio readout on the switchboard was going insane. He feared for a moment they might have to replace several pieces of damaged audio equipment if they kept this up much longer. He couldn’t help the smile that crept across his lips when Brian suddenly went tumbling over backwards in his chair, still laughing. He had also caught a glimpse of the readout and was still further tickled.</p><p>“THE SAME OLD FEEEEEARS…”<br/>Suddenly David broke away from the pack and before they could protest, he grabbed a convenient can of beer from on top of a nearby amplifier and grinned as he help it up between them. The others looked on as he shouted the last line himself:<br/>“WISH YOUUUUUUU WERE…<br/>An immensely proud expression came over his face.<br/><i>“…BEER.”</i></p><p>Finally, Peter joined Brian in uncontrollable laughter. He gripped his sides and Brian wiped tears from his eyes for what must have been the tenth time. They looked at each other through ridiculous giggles.<br/>“Good God, we have <i>got</i> to keep that recording! Stop the tape and put it in a file NOW!”<br/>Peter did as instructed and once the track was safe he slammed the drawer closed with a humored sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like that before, particularly from them.”<br/>Brian pulled himself off the floor and righted his chair. “That’s the closest I’ve come to actually pissing myself from laughing so hard,” he breathed before clearing his throat. “Will they even remember this in the morning?”<br/>“I’m not about to tell them the truth if they don’t ask first. Wonder if they know we’ve actually recorded it?”<br/>“Doubt it,” Brian scoffed. “Does that look like a functioning group of adults to you?” He nodded towards the window, where on the other side the band was now sprawled out every which way in the studio – across the floor, over the arm of a couch, backwards on a chair, yet somehow they were all at least partially on top of each other – and continued to giggle about stupid nonsense like schoolgirls at a sleepover despite being so drunk none of them could lift their heads. Peter put his own in his hand as Brian chuckled.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As requested from Tumblr: "Imagine 1975 Pink Floyd getting so drunk one night that they end up recording them all yelling “Wish You Were Here”. As a story prompt ☺️"<br/>Not my best I'll admit but I put this off long enough and decided to just be done with it. Who says you can't just cut a story off and call it complete????</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>